


She Fills Up Every Corner

by fizzyblogic (phizzle)



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cabin Fic, F/F, Fingerfucking, Fluff, Oral Sex, Rain, Showers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-04
Updated: 2012-12-04
Packaged: 2017-11-20 07:23:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/582791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phizzle/pseuds/fizzyblogic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by <a href="http://imagineyourotp.tumblr.com/post/33943502779/imagine-your-otp-staying-in-a-cabin-in-the-middle">this imagineyourotp post</a>. They get caught in the rain, shower together, and have sex on a rug in front of the fire. Total romantic fluffy porn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	She Fills Up Every Corner

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my ever-wonderful Beater, laurelcrowned <3

"Whose stupid idea was it to do this anyway?" Sansa grumbles. Her shoulders are hunched, but it's clearly not enough to keep the rain from running down her neck. She keeps shuddering.

"Robb's," Margaery reminds her. "Come on, we're almost there."

"I thought it sounded so nice," Sansa says, tripping on a twig. Margaery's hand shoots out to grab hers, helping to right her.

"It _was_ nice," Margaery says. "Until it started raining, anyway."

"Stupid rain," Sansa mutters. Margaery slips in the mud, and Sansa grabs her around the waist, pulling her along.

"Thanks." Margaery's heart pounds, the way it always does when Sansa touches her. "We'll be there soon. _Surely_ we're almost there."

"Wait, I thought you knew." Sansa stops, looking like she's about to cry. "You said you _knew_."

Margaery looks ahead, and thanks whatever deity is responsible for things, because the cabin is on the other side of the next clearing. "We are," she says, "look."

Sansa turns, and then she does start crying. Margaery pulls her into a very wet, very muddy hug. There's still mud and leaves in her hair from where she'd rolled down the ridge Sansa had had to pull her up from, and it's caking her clothes. "Just one more clearing," she murmurs, and feels Sansa nod. She sniffs, and pulls out of the hug.

"I'm okay. Thanks." She squares her shoulders. "One more clearing."

Margaery takes her hand and they step out where there's no shelter from the rain. It feels like a _sheet_ of water falling on them, and Margaery turns her face upward as they run. She's hoping by the time she gets inside there at least won't be mud on it.

The porch gives them shelter, and Sansa starts to relax as Margaery is digging the key out of her pocket. She has a horrible moment of thinking perhaps it fell out as she rolled, but then her fingers touch it, hidden in a fold of material. She unlocks the door, and the sheer dry warmth of the place rushes out to meet them.

They peel their clothes off right by the door; Sansa keeps her t-shirt and underwear on to close all the curtains, but Margaery just takes everything off. She is soaked to the _skin_ , and shivering. "Shower," she says, huddling in on herself. "Please now."

Sansa leads the way, closing curtains and blinds as she goes. The bathroom's blinds are already down, and Sansa gets the shower going as Margaery washes her face. There's still a bit of mud there, but a little scrubbing gets it out quickly. Sansa strips the rest of her clothes off when the water's warm, and Margaery steps in after her.

They take turns standing under the spray, and wash each other's hair. Sansa is gentle and careful as she gets out the mud, combing with her fingers to make sure there's no clumping. Margaery watches the look of concentration on her face, her heart swooping. "You're so beautiful," she says, almost involuntary.

Sansa's eyes flick to hers, and she smiles. "Not as beautiful as you."

"Oh, but you are." Margaery kisses her, a gentle soft kiss, mindful of the spray above them. It feels better than kissing in the rain; this is warm, and she can feel Sansa's skin against hers. She brushes her fingertips over the curve of Sansa's breast, and Sansa gasps into her mouth.

Gently, Margaery brushes her fingers further, around to her nipple, circling with the pad of her thumb. Sansa presses closer, her hands moving down Margaery's back. Margaery starts kissing her neck, further down, taking Sansa's nipple into her mouth and sucking.

Sansa inhales sharply and says, "The hot water will run out."

Almost as if on cue, the spray turns lukewarm, then cold. They step hastily away from it, and Margaery shuts the water off, grabbing them both towels.

They dry mostly themselves, but Margaery can't help but dry Sansa a little. "Any excuse to touch you," she smiles, and Sansa blushes. Five years with her, and still Margaery can't get enough of touching her, of tasting her. She kisses her, and Sansa surges against her, _need_ in every movement.

"I love you," Sansa whispers into the space between their mouths, when they break apart to breathe.

"I love you too," Margaery says, nuzzling their noses together.

She gets a fire going in the lounge, while Sansa uncorks the wine. "I know it's a bit early," she says, and Margaery smiles.

"Ah, but it's also warming, and we could do with a bit of warmth." She builds the fire up some more, listening to the rain falling on the cabin's roof.

They're still just in their dressing gowns when they sit down, glasses of wine in their hands, on the soft sofa cushions. Margaery hooks her legs over Sansa's knees and gets comfortable. "Feel better now?"

"Mm, much better. I don't like being wet and muddy."

"It was fun kissing in the rain, though," Margaery says, nudging her with a knee. Sansa smiles.

"That was the good bit," she says, looking up through her eyelashes. Margaery bites her lip, suddenly very aware that Sansa really isn't wearing much. She could just reach over, undo her belt, slip a hand into her dressing gown —

"Are you thinking about what it looks like you're thinking about?" Sansa asks. Her voice is teasing, but slightly breathless.

Margaery nods. "You look utterly magnificent naked," she says, drawing her leg up Sansa's slowly. Sansa squirms. "I can't help thinking about it when you're hardly wearing anything." She leans closer to murmur, "I want you."

Sansa puts her wine glass down and shifts, leaning forward. Margaery puts her glass next to Sansa's and cups Sansa's face in her hands, kissing her hungrily. Sansa presses against her, hands on Margaery's waist, moving round to get her dressing gown open.

"Please," Sansa whispers into her mouth. "I want you so much."

Margaery lays her down on the soft rug, spreading out their dressing gowns over it to make it even softer. It feels good on Margaery's knees, so she knows it must feel lovely on Sansa's back. She kisses her, fingertips brushing over her nipples, Sansa arching into the touch. She moves her fingertips lower, tracing patterns over Sansa's sides, her waist, her hips. Sansa's legs fall open and she shifts, knees bent, hips tilting up.

Margaery traces patterns over her thighs, skating near but not too close. After a while, Sansa moans and breaks the kiss to pant, " _Please_ , Margaery, _please_."

"Fuck." Margaery traces her fingertips closer, splaying her left hand on Sansa's thigh. Sansa tilts and squirms, trying to meet her fingers faster. Margaery kisses her neck, sucking at the skin, hoping it bruises. Whenever she does this, leaves a red mark on Sansa's expanse of white neck, seeing it later drives her to distraction. Sansa has said she loves the sensation, and she moans now, tilting her head so Margaery has more room.

"Please," she whispers. "Please, _fuck_."

Sansa doesn't swear often, and Margaery finds it headily erotic when it's out of desperation like this. She touches one fingertip to Sansa's clit, and Sansa presses up against it, moaning, "Fuck, yes, _Margaery_."

Margaery circles her fingers there, touch so light she knows it'll make Sansa frantic. Sansa writhes, Margaery sucking at her neck, teasing with her fingers, wholly lost in the pleasure of making her squirm and beg. When Sansa's voice has started cracking on the _please_ , Margaery slips her fingers lower and slides two gently into her.

Sansa arches off the rug with a groan of relief. Margaery slowly thrusts them in as far as they will go, and Sansa moans, " _Yes_ , fuck, _yes_ , Margaery."

Satisfied that she's raised a bruise, Margaery moves her mouth from Sansa's neck to her breast. She kisses over the skin, traces her tongue up the curve, and adds a third finger, sliding into Sansa gently and slowly. "I love you," she whispers into her skin.

"I love you," Sansa pants. "Fuck, _yes_."

Margaery spends a while flicking her tongue across Sansa's nipple, keeping the rhythm of her hand slow and gentle. Sansa is making the most delicious noises, shuddering moans and desperate pleading. Margaery speeds her hand up a little and Sansa arches.

Margaery keeps the pace for a while, then stretches her fingers, searching, until she hears Sansa gasp and whisper, "Oh, fuck."

Margaery looks up to watch her. Sansa's head is thrown back, her mouth open, and as Margaery rocks her fingertips back and forth, she watches Sansa's throat work as broken sounds escape her mouth. Margaery kisses over her breast again, light touches, and Sansa's breath comes in squeaks. "Fuck — Margaery — _Margaery_ —" She screams out the last, her whole body shaking, and Margaery doesn't let up the rocking of her fingers until Sansa's orgasm is completely spent.

Her hand is soaked. She kisses the corner of Sansa's mouth, still open and panting, and gets up to rinse her hands. When she comes back, Sansa is lying with her eyes closed, breathing hard, stretched out naked. Margaery's clit gives a throb as she lies next to her, kissing over her shoulder.

"It's a good job we're in the middle of nowhere," she murmurs, smiling into Sansa's skin. "If there are any hikers, they'll think I just killed you."

Sansa laughs breathily. "I think that was pretty unmistakably a screaming orgasm, even from a mile away."

Margaery grins. "Makes a change from scaring the neighbours."

"You gave them ear plugs," Sansa reminds her, breathing almost normal now. She opens her eyes.

"I still got notes," Margaery says. "You do scream so much."

"Not with anyone else." There's a softness to the way she says it. Margaery kisses her, running the tip of her tongue along Sansa's lip. Sansa smiles.

"You always have to go and ruin my flirting with something heart-melting," Margaery says, nudging the tips of their noses together.

"Well, how about this?" Sansa rolls them over, grinning. "Let's see if I can make _you_ scream."

She starts kissing down Margaery's body, stopping to curl her tongue around each nipple in turn. Margaery shifts, arching in anticipation, so turned on it feels like she'll come at the slightest touch. When Sansa is kissing up her thighs, she says, "I might not last long."

Sansa smiles. "Maybe not the first time."

Margaery groans, dropping her head back. Sansa kisses closer, closer, Margaery shifting, opening her legs as far as they'll go. Sansa murmurs, "Wow, you really are turned on, aren't you?"

"I just watched you come," Margaery says. "Of _course_ I am."

Sansa's answer is to press her tongue to Margaery's clit. Margaery arches, biting back a moan. Sansa flicks her tongue and circles it, and Margaery feels the start of the build. Sansa doesn't need telling; she keeps circling, faster and faster as Margaery gets closer, and when she comes, Sansa keeps her tongue still for a second.

She's still coming when Sansa moves, slips her tongue inside her. Margaery spreads her legs even further, and Sansa fucks her with her tongue, movements relentless as the last of Margaery's orgasm recedes. She can hardly stand it when Sansa does this, the pleasure almost unbearable. Sansa keeps the rhythm up until Margaery's moans have gone back to a normal volume, then moves back to Margaery's clit.

Sansa is truly amazing with her tongue. She learned, not long into their relationship, that Margaery likes this best, and has spent the past five years building up the perfect technique. She approaches it like an art, and adjusts her speed, changes between flicks and sucks and circling and dipping lower, dragging the tip up, pressed firmly against her. She makes Margaery twitch and arch and moan and yell, and she makes it _last_.

Margaery can feel the warmth from the fire on one side, can still hear the rain falling on the roof, and her own fast breathing. She shakes and moans and gasps out Sansa's name and long strings of profanities as Sansa's tongue flicks and circles and drags, as she sucks hard at just the right time, as she moves down to fuck into her again just when Margaery is getting close. She comes yelling Sansa's name, a long drawn-out sound, and Sansa keeps her tongue pressed to Margaery's clit until Margaery has to push her away.

"Holy fuck," she pants, as Sansa gets up to splash water on her face. She comes back, chin dry, and stretches out half on top of Margaery, shifting until their bodies are flush.

Margaery wraps her arms around Sansa, still twitching into the afterglow. "I am the luckiest person alive," she says, kissing Sansa's hair.

"I'd say I'm a contender for that," Sansa smiles. "You're beautiful and you make you smile and you're _incredible_ in bed."

Margaery laughs. "I think you're talking about yourself, there."

Sansa kisses her in answer. Margaery can taste herself on Sansa's tongue, and pulls her closer, kissing her slowly and deeply, one hand in her hair, Sansa's resting on her hips, as the rain carries on pounding on the roof.


End file.
